


Dæmon Lovers

by Dame_Syrup (mary_pseud)



Category: Doctor Who, His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Crossover, Daemon Touching, Daemons, Dimension Travel, F/M, Kinkmeme, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 08:16:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16114454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mary_pseud/pseuds/Dame_Syrup
Summary: For the kinkmeme prompt: Mickey/Rose: While travelling between dimensions, they end up in Lyra's world from "His Dark Materials", where touching each other's dæmons is teh kinkiest thing evar.





	Dæmon Lovers

"This isn't it," Mickey said, sighing and shrugging as he sat down on the worn bench. In front of them, the river softly slid between her banks, politely rippling down to the ocean.

"I know," Rose said, distractedly. "But it feels – so close to the right one."

She and Mickey had been leaping between dimensions, trying to find the one where the Doctor was: the man who could tell them why the stars were going out. They'd found worlds that were dead, worlds that were frighteningly empty of life. Others where they landed in a ruined London overgrown with monstrous spitting plants, or crawling with giant white things that looked like amoebas but dissolved stone at a touch (they hadn't stayed to find out if they dissolved flesh as well). War-blasted buildings would be replaced by alien spires, or a stretch of wooden huts huddled by the river. London after London, and none quite right.

But this one – this was close. So close. The technology seemed normal: no earplugs or brain slugs. The air smelled right, petrol and cooking smells, curry and chips and people.

"Why did you have us jump out of the last one so fast?" she asked, looking at Mickey.

He was sitting in one of his normal poses, feet spread and staring at the ground between them. She saw the back of his neck, his soft dark skin, and knew exactly what it would feel like to touch him there – but she didn't. She couldn't. It wouldn't be fair.

He spoke to the ground, each word as hard as the concrete. "You didn't notice what was wrong back there?"

"We were only there a few seconds-"

"Yeah, well, I bet you were just looking at everyone's clothes. Seein' if we would fit in."

"Well, we sure didn't fit in in that nude world, now did we?"

"Yeah, but – You were looking at the clothes, I was looking at the people. All the people who were white, they were walkin' around free and easy; and every black had a collar around their neck."

"Oh," she said, a little faintly.

"So if you want to go back there, Rose, it'll be without me."

"Sure, Mickey. Thank you."

They both sat still then, watching the passers-by. It was getting on after dusk, nearly dark, and the lights were starting to wink on in the buildings behind them. The people they saw looked normal enough, and they didn't look twice at the travellers (Rose had almost automatically tucked the dimension cannon on the ground under the bench, out of sight but easy enough to grab). The only thing Rose noticed was that there seemed to be an awful lot of pets.

A trio of men, obviously getting an early start on their boozing: two of them had rats sitting on their shoulders, tame ones apparently. A woman who looked like a secretary trotted by, carrying a heavy pile of folders with a live turtle perched on top of them. They even saw a rather tarty women accompanied by a magnificently strutting peacock, tail wide like a moving billboard for her.

"I don't think this is it," Rose finally said, disappointed.

"Want to go find a library? That's our best shot for makin' sure."

"No, it's too risky. And there's no point in leavin' a note for the Doctor in the books, because if this isn't his dimension, he'll never come here." Rose sighed, and pushed her hair back, and felt a tiny weight land on her hand.

The weight cheeped.

Slowly, Rose brought her hand down and found herself face to face with a little bird. A pretty bird, yellow with black marks around its eyes and bill, and little black feet wrapped around her finger. She stared at the bird, and it cocked its head at her, staring back.

There was something about the bird. Something fierce about it, and familiar.

"Well, would you look at that!" Mickey breathed. "Is it tame, d'you think? Maybe it's escaped."

"No, it's – it's not tame." The bird's dark round eye was the opposite of tame: it seemed to burn with fury, with a passion to move, to soar. She expected it to explode off her finger into flight at any moment, but instead it just sat there, staring at her.

"Hello?" she said, and the bird blinked.

"Rose, put your hand up."

"What?"

"Rose, put your hand up, now!" and she carefully raised the hand with the bird, looked at Mickey and froze.

A long red-brown shape was at his feet, standing on its two hind legs and clutching at the knee of his jeans with little clawed feet. It had lighter fur at its muzzle and ears, and around its eyes like a blonde mask.

"It's a polecat," Mickey said tightly. "It just – waddled up out of nowhere, and climbed up my leg like," the polecat made a snorting noise and jumped upwards, "augh, like a tree!"

The polecat sat in Mickey's lap, all glowing brown fur and eager little eyes, and snorted again. Mickey gave a little laugh.

"It's not going to eat my bird, is it?"

"Your bird?"

"Yes, he's...he's...." Rose stared at the little bird, and wondered how she had known that it was a he.

"Oh," said Mickey; he was stroking the polecat in his lap, the brown fur rippling under his fingers. "Oh, no, she's not going to eat – your bird."

"She?"

"She." The polecat crawled upwards, staring at Mickey's face with its paws on his chest, and he whispered, "Annas. That's her name. Annas." He looked at Rose, and said, "What's his name?"

"He's – he's – he's Coronon." Rose swallowed; she had no idea where that name had come from, but it was right, perfectly right, just like Annas was perfect for Mickey's new friend.

"Are you my friend, Coronon?" she said, and dared to stroke the bird's head with one finger.

The feathers felt – perfect. Perfectly soft and smooth and right under her hand, and suddenly she couldn't imagine what it would be like not to have Coronon with her, all the time, every minute of every day. To have him there to touch, to see, to talk to.

"I don't know about you, Rose, but this feels great." Mickey was almost purring, petting Annas with two hands in long smooth strokes. "It's like she's a part of me."

"But she shouldn't be." Rose swallowed, and the next words hurt to say. "It's not natural. Maybe she's an alien in disguise. Maybe she's manipulating your mind."

"She's got a head the size of my fist, Rose, no way she can think-" Annas butted her head against his chin, and he apologised and then looked confused for apologising. Then she turned her head, sleek as a seal's, and stared at Coronon. Coronon looked back, and seemed almost interested.

"Rose, be careful. I mean, I don't feel like she'll eat a bird, but-"

Coronon flittered his wings and flew, landing on Annas' back and then stretching his wings wide, stroking them down the polecat's sides. Mickey moaned, a familiar moan. It was the way he moaned when she touched him, in the night, and he awoke to her touch already hard and ready.

But that was a long time ago, she told herself.

Right now, she had to get Coronon back. He was hers, she needed him back. She put out one hand and tried to get Coronon to perch on it, but instead he was kneading his claws into Annas' fur. There was no other way around it; she was going to have to touch Annas to get him back.

Mickey touched first. He raised his hand and let the tips of Coronon's feathers touch it, and it felt like heat lightning through Rose's flesh. She could feel that touch, and it felt as perfect and right as touching Coronon with her own hand. She reached out and ran her fingertips over Annas' head, feeling the soft fur, and felt herself groan involuntarily. It felt so good. It felt so perfect.

They were lost for endless moments in the touch of feathers on flesh, of fur under fingers. Then they were distracted by a loud HARRUMPH! noise.

They looked up, and found themselves facing a police officer: there were some changes to his uniform, it wasn't quite right, but he had the hat and the tie. He was square-faced and determined, and at his side was a bulldog that was almost a caricature of the breed: squat and muscular and tough-looking.

"Right, you two," the policeman said. "Get on out of here, before I run you in for public indecency." He frowned at them, and the dog seemed to frown as well.

"Yeah, right, we should get going." The only place Rose wanted to go right now was bed, and not alone. But they had to get out of here first. Go back home, to her flat, and it would just be her and Mickey, and Annas and Coronon. She needed to get her hands on the dimension cannon; it was exactly the sort of thing that should not be whipped out in front of a policeman, but she didn't have much choice, now did she?

She leaned down and slid one hand along the ground. As a distraction, she reached out for the bulldog, saying, "Good dog." And then all hell broke loose.

The bulldog leaped backwards, screaming with the voice of a human woman.

"What the HELL-" and she could hear the clattering sound as the policeman fumbled for something. A mobile, a truncheon, a gun, it didn't matter; they had to get out of here, now!

"Where we landed!" she shouted, grabbing the cannon and running. Mickey dodged in the other direction, with Annas draped over his shoulder like a living stole. Coronon was flying at Rose's ear as she ran, cheeping encouragement.

They met thirty seconds later, and Rose started the cannon warming up.

"What if they don't come with us?" Mickey asked, desperately. Coronon was under his chin, tight against his skin, her fluffy face looking at Rose with intelligent eyes.

"They will," Rose said, setting the cannon. "They have to. Let's go!"

 

* * *

 

They landed alone. Back in Pete's world. And they cried, so very hard, and felt as though part of them was lost forever. They fumbled awkwardly with their words, and went to their separate homes alone.

But they dreamed. Mickey dreamed of running through endless fields of warm grass, dotted with lush fruit that smelt like heaven and tasted like steak. Rose dreamed of flying, high above the clouds, and feeling like the clouds were a part of her. And when they awoke, alone, they felt that Annas and Coronon were still with them, silent and invisible, and there.

**Author's Note:**

> Giving Mickey a polecat is a reference to Saki's 'Sredni Vashtar', not a belief that he has any weasel-like qualities.   
> Rose's dæmon is not a wolf because (a) the shape of her soul was set long before Bad Wolf occurred, and (b) if you were in a strange dimension and a wolf came up and got friendly, you'd leave!


End file.
